There’s A Ladder With a Bucket On It … Get It?

Dad and I stood a few dozen yards from the creek bank looking at the worse-for-wear ladder with the metal bucket hanging from it and speculated on how such a configuration might have come about. The ladder had been there for awhile for sure. Vines of what appeared to be poison ivy entwined along and around the two remaining rungs. It seemed obvious that the bucket came later and we remarked that it was somewhat interesting that the bucket hadn’t already been removed by some passerby. But it didn’t seem odd that the ladder and bucket were together. Painters famously use ladders and buckets simultaneously all the time. What was odd, however, was the location of the ladder and bucket. In the middle of nowhere. In the bottom of an Ozarks box canyon miles from the nearest road of any consequence. The bucket had a single bullet hole in it, so that might’ve been a clue. Dad expanded the scope and began describing the ancient ladders he had seen still hanging high in the cliffs of the Grand Canyon. Then we continued with our hike. In an epic episode of failing to put two and two together, we totally missed the significance of the bucket hanging from the ladder.

Twenty minutes later, as we stood watching and listening to the thunderous roar of the waterfall, it came to me. It wasn’t a realization in a blinding flash or one of those moments when all your jumbled thoughts coalesce into a single brilliant idea. No, it just seemed to be there in its same old place. I don’t why I didn’t notice it at the proper time.
“I know the significance of the ladder and bucket,” I said.
Dad gave me that what-hell-are-you-talking-about look that people give when they wonder what the hell you are talking about.
“There’s a ladder with a bucket on it,” I continued, putting particular emphasis on ladder and bucket.
Still nothing.
“The name of the waterfall,” I prompted.
Dad cracked up.
Ladderbucket Falls is the name given the waterfall by guide-book author Tim Ernst, but waterfall guide book gives no hint that there’s an actual ladder and bucket nearby. I guess Tim meant for that to remain a surprise. Edit: Check the comments for an explanation on who named the falls.

Saturday was a perfect day for waterfall photos, overnight heavy rain with rain continuing through much of the morning. We left Little Rock at 6:30 a.m. and arrived at the “trailhead” a couple hours later on John Mountain in the Ozark National Forest near Scotland.

The hike in to the waterfall, per the guide book, is pretty much downhill except for a level section in the middle. The last part of the hike is extremely steep and there’s no established trail. However, the ATV trail mentioned in the guidebook is actually a somewhat decent logging road on the ridge above the waterfall canyon. A jeep or 4-wheel-drive shouldn’t have any trouble on it, but you’d have to find where it starts. Driving that road would knock off about three-quarters of the hike.

The water fall was running full tilt and is one of the best falls I’ve visited in the state. Definitely worth the steep hike.

The trail skirts the very top of the drainage containing Ladderbucket Falls and a good bit of water ran across the trail there. We could hear rushing water below so we dropped off the trail. After scrambling down a steep incline we found this huge overhang with a decent waterfall running over it. This fall is indicated on the map in the guide book, but isn’t named. We decided to call it Deer Cave Falls based on the profusion of deer tracks we found back under the rock.

We made our way back up to the trail/road and had a pleasant level hike for a mile or so through a designated logging area before dropping off the ridge top and into the woods. As we were making the final descent into the bottom of the canyon we caught a glimpse of a bear near the creek. He had obviously seen us and was making tracks upstream. It was smallish, maybe a cub from last spring. He headed in the direction we were going and we got very vigilant in the fear that a larger bear could be lurking. We came across several rotting logs with extensive bear damage.

We also came across several rare morel mushrooms. I don’t eat mushrooms and it had never occurred to me to look for these. I understand they are highly sought after in the springtime.

Near the beginning of the logging trail we came across this fantastic piece of illegal-dump art.

I fancy myself an aficionado of small-town-independent-dining establishments, so on the way home we stopped at the Overcup Diner for a late lunch. The place is a prime example of shabby-roadside-diner chic in the tiny berg of Overcup on Highway 9. We walked in and blanched at the condition and emptiness of the place. But it was 3 p.m., well after the lunch rush, so I thought that might be the reason for the dearth of customers. Sitting down one at of the well-worn tables, we whispered serious concerns to each other about whether this place could serve edible food. Playing it safe, we both ordered burgers and fries. I stared literally gaped-mouthed when the waitress set down one of the loveliest cheeseburgers I’ve ever seen, complete with gourmet-style bun. Only the presence of the hated Krinkle Kut™ fries kept me from giving it my full endorsement. The eatery’s sign especially intrigued me. To increase night time visibility, they’d clamped two of those portable work lights to the sign and powered them with common extension cords.

Bellies full and clothes muddied, we headed back to civilization.